


Wounded

by KitsuneBlake



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, OTP Feels, Spoilers, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22032865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsuneBlake/pseuds/KitsuneBlake
Summary: It's been nearly a year since the Wild Hunt's defeat and nilfgaardian victory in the North. Everything's going back to normal and Triss is finally free to travel without fear. But her regained freedom does nothing to heal her soul.This story is the english translation of my italian fanfic "Ferite". It's set after The Witcher 3 and contains a major spoiler from the game (no spoilers from the books). Gamers warned!
Relationships: Eskel/Triss Merigold
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Wounded

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my mothertongue. If you see any mistake, please don't be afraid of telling me. Enjoy! <3

"Your arm is healed, but try not to move it for a while. Understood?"

The kid looked up and nodded, his wide eyes glistening with tears.

"Thank you, Miss sorceress," said the boy’s mother.

"You may call me Triss."

The woman smiled, though her expression still showed a hint of concern. "What can I do to pay our debt?"

"Nothing. I helped your child by my own will." That family could barely feed their children. It was clear and Triss had no intention of taking anything from them.

She was right indeed, as the woman burst into tears, taking Triss’ hand in hers. "Thank you, thank you so much!"

"It was nothing," Triss said, giving her an awkward smile. No matter how many times she saw that same scene, she would never get used to it. Sure, she was glad people were finally getting over the prejudice towards mages and sorceresses, but every time she saw adulation in her patients’ eyes, she felt unease. She just helped a wounded kid, after all.

"Wait, Miss Triss, please." The woman took her kid by the hand and entered her house. She came back a little later, alone, carrying a tiny wicker basket in her arms. "Please, take this. We ain't rich, but we have a healthy goat and a small yard."

Triss could not refuse. The smell of cheese and fresh vegetables made her stomach groan.

"Thank you," she said, once she put the food in the saddle bags. She gave the basket back to the woman, smiling.

"No, I thank you," the woman replied. "May Melitele protect you on your journey."

  
  


***

  
  


When Triss finally saw the roofs of the next village, the sun was already setting. She didn’t know where she was exactly, but it didn’t really matter. She just hoped to find an inn and take a good rest. The thought of a warm meal and a decent bed made her smile, despite the sadness she was often feeling in the past months. Many times she found herself thinking of the past. She couldn’t help it, as her memories seemed to be a little more brighter than her current present.

The Wild Hunt’s defeat, several months earlier, had closed a chapter of her life. She felt like those days belonged to ages before, lingering in her mind, fading but not leaving. She often thought about her life in Novigrad, the hunts, Ciri’s search, the war between Nilfgaard and Redania. Peace had finally come and the past was fading like a bad dream. The battle fields, now clean and covered in grass, were just a mere memory of that hideous past.

Autumn was coming and the nights were getting colder by the day, so much that Triss was forced to buy new clothes. For that reason she had been in Novigrad few weeks before. She had never been there after the famous mages’ escape. When she had found out she could walk around the streets without wearing a hood, she felt amazing, but it was a fleeting sensation. Truth being told, she was feeling empty.

And nothing could really fill that emptiness. After the war ended, she started wandering from town to town, from village to village, helping people whenever she could. Initially, people looked at her with suspicion, but she didn’t blame them. She couldn’t. Radovid had done a great job spreading his hatred towards mages, sorceresses and anything that was considered non-human. Even after his death and after the war, Triss got insulted and threatened many times, but less by the day. In the end, villagers had started trusting her again. It was a nice feeling and it helped with her 'emptiness' a bit.

But she felt lonely. It wasn't about Geralt, no, she was over it. The witcher was just a chapter in her life, intense, beautiful, but not real. She wouldn’t cry for a man who didn’t want her. It was humiliating. No, what she wanted was there, somewhere, she knew it. She felt it. She just couldn’t reach it.

Triss didn’t notice she had finally reached the village. It was twilight. She could hear laughters and screams coming from the inn, where the villagers were enjoying the end of a long day of work. When she entered, many eyes looked up on her, some curious, some lustful. She saw contempt too, but she didn't mind it. The 'wandering witch', that’s how she was called now.

"Good evening. Have you got a room for the night?" she asked, once she reached the innkeeper. The man was huge, not young but clearly capable of knocking out a bunch of young people without much effort. He finished pouring a beer, then he looked at her.

"We’ve got a room, but it’s the best we got and it’ll cost you."

Whether it was the truth or not, Triss didn’t care about it. The price wasn't that high, and she desperately needed a bath and a bed. She grimaced when the innkeeper started counting the coins in front of her, as if he didn’t trust her, but again she didn’t complain. The man then called a girl named Liz, who she would later discover was his daughter. Liz finally brought her upstairs.

The room wasn't ugly at all. Sure, it was rather small, but clean. The window was facing on the open fields, not on the muddy and stinky village road. It had also a tiny fireplace. She had paid for that room more that its actual value, but the innkeeper wasn't that dishonest. The place was pretty.

In a corner, there was a tub as well. As soon as Triss saw it, she immediately asked Liz to prepare it. The girl smiled and nodded before leaving the room. Some time later, the bath was finally ready; with a hint of magic, Triss removed her clothes and entered the hot water, sighing in relief.

  
  


*** 

  
  


She stayed in the tub for one hour at least, but she wasn't in a hurry. Having traveled all day long, she had absolutely no intention of going to bed reeking like a stable. Liz was so kind to wash her clothes, which were now drying by the fire. Feeling clean and warm, Triss finally went to bed, shielding herself with the heavy blanket Liz had prepared for her. She started thinking that the price she paid for that room wasn't so high after all.

When she woke up, she had no idea how long she had slept. It was still dark outside, no light coming from the window aside the moon rays. The fire had nearly died off and the room was wrapped in heavy darkness. Nothing strange so far, but there were voices coming from downstairs; too high for that time in the night, and quite angry. Triss could also feel a hint of fear. Did something happen?

Curiosity bested her. She conjured a small globe of light and the room lighted up, enough for her to get dressed and finally get out to discover the reason of that confusion. She didn't run downstairs though, because she didn't want to interrupt a conversation she felt she wanted to hear. She stopped the spell instead and walked in the hallway in complete darkness, carefully approaching the stairs. Oh how she wanted a witcher's cat eyes in that moment! She stopped three or four stairs before reaching the main hall, backed against the wall and listened.

"Let him in and I'm going away from this place!" Whoever said those words, he clearly was angry. It wasn't the host... Probably a customer.

"He's wounded," a female voice said, filled with anxiety. "He saved our lives, it's the least we can do for..."

"He didn't save  _my_ life, so why don't you take him to your place?! Ragan, first that witch, now this. If you let him in, I'm fucking going and I'm never coming back."

"Then go," said another voice. A man, as furious as the first was. "Nothing to lose anyway. Only thing you do here is getting drunk and jacking off."

Sudden confusion, sound of steps and ripped clothes. The two men were clearly fighting, but Triss couldn't see anything from her hidden spot. The woman tried to stop them, but they didn't listen.

" _Enough_ ," hissed a third man. It was the host, and Triss' suspicion was finally confirmed: he wasn't big for nothing.

"Ragan, you..." said the first voice, breathing heavily.

"Are you trying to make decisions for  _me_ under  _my_ roof, Movic?"

"No, I..."

"Then shut the hell up," Ragan said, bluntly. "You do whatever you please, but I won't deny hospitality to a wounded man, despite..."

Movic laughed. "Stop it, Ragan. Hospitality! We both know the only reason you're accepting a freak here is the coin."

_Freak_ , Triss thought. It wasn't possible, but she didn't have time to think, for the host talked again. 

"I'll say it one last time, Movic. What I do under my roof and why I do it is not your fucking business."

Silence followed those words, and for a moment time seemed to be slowing down. Triss could hear her own heart racing, so fast she feared someone would notice her presence. Eventually, the man called Movic talked.

"Fine, whatever. I'm going, so you can welcome your  _ royal  _ guest."

Ragan didn't reply. Not like Triss needed to hear anything else, though.  _ Freak _ . That word screamed in her head, as strong as a knife in the gut. She hurried back in her room, but she had no intention of sleeping. She started walking up and down the small space, the stomach clenched and the conversation replaying in her mind, over and over again.

There were many non-humans around that could've been called 'freaks'. A doppler, a dwarf, an elf. Some time ago, under Radovid's reign mages and sorceresses were often considered freaks. Some still called them that. Triss took a deep breath; whoever was wounded she would soon discover, because the host would call her to ask for help. She felt it. Then why was she so nervous? Could it possibly...

"Miss sorceress?"

Liz's voice reached her, muffled by the wooden door.

"Yes?" she answered. Damn, too quickly. "Coming," she said, taking her time to open the door, hoping maybe to look like someone who had just been dragged out of the bed.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," said Liz once she opened the door, "but it's urgent and we need... Please, we need your help." The girl was pale, nervous, and her night dress was drenched in... blood?

Triss cupped her cheeks and looked at her in the eyes. "Try to calm down, Liz. I'm here, take me where you need me. Okay?" She felt the urge to run herself, but the girl was clearly shocked.

Liz nodded, still pale. "Follow me."

Triss didn't even hesitate. Finally free to show her concern, she followed the host's daughter, who swiftly led her through the dark hallways.

"He's inside," Liz said, lighting up the door knob with the candle in her hands. "My father and I thought you could..."

Triss never discovered what Liz and her father thought, because she had already opened the door. She didn't even notice the poor furniture of that room; a table, a chair, some candles here and there. On the old bed laid the 'freak'.

She hurried to him and conjured the light globe once more. There it was, the answer to her questions. With her heart racing in terror, Triss checked the witcher's pale features, the so familiar old scar, his pupils dilated despite the white light coming from the globe. His breath was fast and weak, broken by tremors and whimpers. It was clear that he was in terrible pain. His leather jacket had a huge hole on the left side, showing a hideous wound and blood... There was blood everywhere. Triss couldn't see it, but she could feel it on the slippery floor under her boots.

"Help me. We need to undress him, quickly," she said in a whisper, strangely unable to speak louder.

Whatever caused that, she didn't know, but she didn't care now. She would hear the story from Eskel's very lips.


End file.
